


ripe lilies

by vesperal



Series: baekcest [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, I APOLOGIZE, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Masturbation, Mirrors, Narcissism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, wasn't sure how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperal/pseuds/vesperal
Summary: "It’s nothing terribly strange – it makes a lot of sense, even, considering the fact that Baekhyun has always found himself attractive, has always taken a little too much pleasure in running his hands slowly over the curves of his body when he gets himself off. But still, this feels like it would be crossing a line – like giving in to these desires would be taking his narcissistic tendencies just a little too far for comfort."Or, Baekhyun gets off to his own reflection, and wishes so desperately that he could do more.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Byun Baekhyun
Series: baekcest [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621264
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	ripe lilies

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't sure whether i should tag this as baek/baek or not but given what im planning for the sequel i thought it wouldn't be too inappropriate. anyway this is completely self-indulgent and basically just me gushing about baekhyun's body for 2k words
> 
> title from a poem by hilda doolittle
> 
> enjoy!

The mirror in the corner of the room is taunting Baekhyun. He’s not generally a superstitious person, but he’s sure it doesn’t catch the light this much usually. Every time he rolls over in his bed, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the desire pulsating in his lower stomach, the reflection of the lamp on his nightstand flares brightly in his peripheral vision. It’s distracting, and worst of all it makes his dick harder every time it happens because it reminds him of what he wants to do with that damn mirror.

It’s nothing terribly strange – it makes a lot of sense, even, considering the fact that Baekhyun has always found himself attractive, has always taken a little too much pleasure in running his hands slowly over the curves of his body when he gets himself off. But still, this feels like it would be crossing a line – like giving in to these desires would be taking his narcissistic tendencies just a little too far for comfort.

So he rolls over in his bed once again and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the dull ache of unsatisfied pleasure in his groin and the thoughts running amok in his brain. Of course, he fails. Groaning quietly, he flops over onto his stomach, shoves a pillow between his legs and begins to grind on it, hoping to reach his peak quickly and finally be able to sleep.

It doesn’t work, though – his mind wanders as he rolls his hips against the pillow, body undulating between the sheets, and he starts to think about how _good_ he must look like this, the soft curves of his body and the restrained power in his thrusts.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he swears under his breath, punching the mattress next to his head. His gaze drifts over to the mirror. Well, he supposes, he’s never had much self-restraint anyway. It can’t hurt to try, just once, and if it’s too weird he just won’t do it again.

So he untangles himself from his sheets and walks over to the mirror, grabbing a bottle of lube from his bedside table as he goes. He sprawls out on the carpet in front of it and just admires himself for a minute – the way his lips have gone red from being bitten, the way his hair is ruffled like he’s just been fucked, the tent in his pajama pants. He grabs the bottom of his t-shirt and pulls it up slowly, biting his lip as he watches inch after tantalizing inch of golden skin be exposed. He loves the soft layer of fat on his tummy, the way it gives so easily when he presses his fingers down on it, the way it curves inwards around his waist.

He shivers, trailing feather light fingers up the middle of his torso, feeling his dick twitch in his pants. He’s so hard, and he’s barely done anything yet. He drops the bottom of the t-shirt and reaches for the neckline, pulling it away from his throat to expose pretty, delicate collarbones. He tilts his head back, revels in the way the pale skin of his neck stretches out, long and elegant. He wishes he could mark that skin up, leave pretty purple bruises on it.

Shifting into a kneeling position, he yanks the t-shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to one side, and feels his cock leak precum at the vision he makes in the mirror. The dim light of the bedside lamp illuminates the planes of his body just so, highlighting the softness of his curvy hips and the broadness of his shoulders while shrouding the hollow of his throat and the dip of his waist in darkness. He runs his hands down his body, moaning softly, reveling in how those long, graceful fingers look against his own skin.

He brings them up to his nipples, squeezes, pinches, watches as they harden. He admires the gentle curve of his pecs, protruding just so, soft and firm in equal measure. He trails them down to his hips, pinches the thin layer of fat there, thinks about how nice it would be to hold onto these hips and quite literally fuck himself.

He lets his hands dip underneath the waistband of his pants, pulling them away from his body until the head of his cock pops up against his belly, red and weeping. He swears, transfixed, and shuffles until he can shove the pants the rest of the way off. He’s bare underneath, and he wraps his hand around his cock the minute he’s fully naked, just admiring it.

He’s bigger than average, and he loves that, likes to imagine how heavy it would be in his mouth, in his ass. He lets go of it, watches it bounce in the air for a moment, running his hands up and down his thighs. He loves those, too, loves how thick they are, how soft, how satisfying it feels to squeeze them and grope them while he jerks himself off.

Finally, he turns around and rises up onto his hands and knees, twisting his head over his shoulder to watch his ass in the mirror. The arousal that burns through his veins is shocking in its intensity. He knew he would be turned on by this, but not quite to this extent. But the curve of his ass in the mirror is just so sinful, and he whines as he lowers himself down to rest his weight on his shoulders and reaches back to grope himself, cock twitching at the way the skin dimples under his fingertips.

That draws his attention to where he can see the length of his cock hanging down between his spread thighs, red and painfully hard. The contrast between the undeniable virility of his heavy cock and balls dripping precum onto the carpet and the almost feminine curve of his hips and ass is so incredibly enticing, all he can do is watch and tremble and whine, back arching lower, further emphasizing the long, flexible lines of his body.

The thought that he will never get to sink his cock into the tempting little rosebud between those plush cheeks, that he will never get to feel the weight of that perfect cock inside himself, makes him feel achingly empty, and he reaches for the lube with a broken whimper, desperate to fill himself up, even if it’s just with his fingers.

He’s far from comfortable, but he manages to contort himself into a position where he has a clear view of himself in the mirror as he lubes up his fingers and reaches back to circle his hole. He watches it flutter, mesmerized. It looks like it’s trying to suck his fingers in. _Such a slutty little hole_ , he thinks, and shivers. Finally, he stops teasing himself and pushes a finger inside, hissing at the way the tight heat swallows it up.

And watching that finger disappear inside his own body is so erotic, turns him on so much more than any porn he’s ever watched, than any partner he’s ever had. He bears down on it, pushes until it’s as far inside himself as he can get it, and just kneels there and shakes, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood just to keep the loudest of the moans in. He forces himself to relax, takes several deep breaths, starts moving his finger, pushes it in and out, in and out, and _oh god_ the way his hole clamps down on it like it doesn’t want to let go is quite possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

 _Deep breaths_ , he reminds himself, pulling the first finger out and pushing two back in. It’s not easy to fill is lungs with precious oxygen in the position he’s in, but he tries his best, unwilling to move. He can’t take his eyes off of his body in the mirror, his hole swallowing two fingers just as easily as it had one. He _wants_ , and it burns red hot through his veins, disappointment curdling in his stomach. Scissoring his fingers, he watches as his rim stretches, loosening easily, almost pliant. It would be so easy to just stuff his cock in there, he thinks, and shudders.

Cursing under his breath, he twists his shoulders so he can shove his fingers in as far as they go, reaching for his prostate. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get the angle right, and he huffs as he pulls his fingers out of his hole, wincing at the sudden emptiness, and flips onto his back, legs spread wide in front of the mirror. Leaning back on one elbow, he pulls his thighs as far back as they’ll go, ignoring the burn of the stretch, and watches in delight as his shiny pink hole is exposed to the cool air of the bedroom.

Almost hurting himself in his excitement, he reaches down and stuffs his fingers back into his hole, pushing them all the way in and crooking them up, searching for his prostate. He finds it after a few seconds, and his whole body seizes up as he chokes on a whimper. He watches his abs tense and release under the slight outward curve of his belly, watches his cock twitch, a drop of precum rolling off the head to settle on golden skin. The backs of his thighs look soft and firm all at once, lean muscles under silky skin, and his feet look elegant, almost dainty where they’re pointed up at the ceiling.

He starts to fuck himself in earnest, alternating between rough, harsh thrusts and a slow, sweet grind against his prostate, the pleasure coalescing in his lower belly, so intense it makes his teeth ache. Shuddering, he pulls his fingers out for a second to add more lube, before pushing three back in. His head falls back, eyes fluttering shut despite himself. He feels so _full_ , but it’s not enough.

Groaning in frustration, he squeezes his pinky in next to the three fingers already stuffed inside, and whimpers as they slip in deeper. There’s a near constant pressure on his prostate now, the soft inside of his forearm grinding against his swollen balls, and he pants, fat droplets of sweat running down his forehead as he races towards what he already knows will be a mind-blowing orgasm.

But there’s something holding him back, keeping that red-hot tension plugged up inside of him, and he’s so _close_ but he can’t quite seem to get there, and he’s about to give up on trying to come untouched – it was a stupid idea anyway – when he realizes he’s lost sight of why he’s even lying here, on the cold wooden floor.

Flipping his hair away from his face, he looks up and lets his lids flutter open, meeting his own eyes in the mirror. His breath catches in his throat – he’s such a _mess_ , and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more arousing. His eyes are dark, lids heavy, lips bitten red, skin shining with sweat. There’s a pretty pink flush making its way down his chest, making his small, pebbled nipples stand out, and the muscles in his thighs keep clenching and unclenching as his reaches deeper and deeper inside himself.

And _oh, that’s_ – what a _view_ , he thinks, mesmerized by the way his hole just takes all four fingers like it’s nothing, sucking them in like it wants more. And it does want more, _he_ wants more, he thinks, watching his cock twitch against his stomach, the head an angry red and dripping precum. _Yes_ , he wants it inside him, _needs_ it inside him, fucking needs it like oxygen, wants to spend his days hanging off his _own_ cock, and it’s such a fucked up thought but it’s what he needs to push him over the edge. His voice cracks on one last moan as he comes, his orgasm so intense it’s almost painful, clenching down hard on his fingers and writhing as his cock spurts all over his stomach.

He’s got actual tears running down his face by the time he emerges from the fog, muscles still spasming intermittently. He pulls he fingers out of himself with a wince and wipes off the lube and cum covering his body with his discarded t-shirt.

He takes a second to breathe, sitting there on the floor, staring at his fucked out face in the mirror. He just had the most incredible orgasm of his entire life, but he still feels unsatisfied, _empty_. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, he stumbles to his feet and staggers over to his bed, flopping onto the mattress and squishing his face into it. Too bone-deep tired to even get under the blanket, he lets his mind wander, closes his eyes, and _wishes_.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway i hope you enjoyed this!! i will almost definitely be writing a sequel where baekhyun gets what he wants hehe  
> pls leave a comment & kudos if u enjoyed and have a good day/night!  
> my [twitter](http://twitter.com/nekoyeol)


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